How Sirius Broke The Quidditch Cup
by Werewolves-Oh-My
Summary: Or, How To Make James Potter Cry Like Peter's Five Year Old Sister. RLSB.


_**How Sirius Broke the Quidditch Cup

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**_

_April 1994, Gryffindor Common Room_

Harry Potter couldn't wipe the grin off his face as Oliver Wood handed him the Quidditch cup once more, a loud cheer reverberating around the Gryffindor masses, gathered to celebrate Gryffindor's earlier win over Slytherin, as he lifted it into the air. Smiling at Ron, Harry sat on the sofa alongside the redhead, examining the trophy with a grin that would best a thousand Dementors.

Running his hands over the cup, he frowned lightly as his hands ran over a small bump. Turning the cup over, he ran a finger along the long crack in the trophy, and the small dent accompanying it.

"I wonder how that got there..." Harry muttered to Ron, looking at the trophy interestedly.

"Probably in the celebrations, Fred and George have hardly been gentle with the poor trophy!" Ron clapped Harry on the back. "Now, gis a go with it, I've been dying to look at it all evening!"

Harry laughed, handing over the magnificent trophy, and soon enough, on the back of far too much butterbeer and several slightly stronger beverages, Harry forgot about the dents and cracks, far more interested in the memories of how fine Draco's arse had looked on that broomstick...

* * *

_April 1972, Quidditch Pitch_

James sprinted towards Sirius, pushing through the crowd with a million watts shining from his smile as he clutched the Hogwarts Quidditch Cup tightly. Releasing one hand, he wrapped Sirius in a one armed bear hug, jumping up and down with happiness.

"We won!"

"I know we bloody won, Prongs!" Sirius grinned, taking the Cup off James and smiling at it happily. "We didn't exactly steal the Cup, did we?"

"I would have, if Hufflepuff had beaten us!" James yelled over the celebrating masses. "The way we've played this season, it would have been a miscarriage of justice! An insult to the game!"

"Most definitely." Sirius grinned, holding the cup aloft to an almighty cheer from the masses. Offering James a handle, the two of them held it in the air, jumping as they sang victory songs at the tops of their voices.

Sirius looked around as they jumped, trying to spot a familiar face in the crowd. His eyes floated away from the crowded area, until they finally spotted an ashy haired teen, leaning against the stands with a small smile on his face, directed at Sirius alone.

"REMUS!" Sirius yelled at the top of his voice, cupping both hands to his mouth to get the teen's attention, forgetting, of course, that one hand held the Quidditch cup.

Sirius was oblivious to the force of his pull, completely unaware that his movement had dislodged the cup from James' grip, and the fling towards his own head had sent the cup skywards. The crowd stood still, mouths agape, as the cup flew through the air, rotating again and again as Sirius worked his way towards Remus, oblivious the furore.

Finally, after an age, the cup began to descend, slowly curving faster and faster towards the ground. With a cry of despair, James ran in the direction of the cup, sprinting as fast as his legs could carry him towards the impact zone.

Severus Snape walked across the Quidditch pitch, despondent and moody after the Gryffindor win. Kicking at the Quidditch pitch in the knowledge that those dreadful marauders would be in a better mood than usual (which did not bode well for him. The happier they were, the more pranks they pulled), he muttered to himself, cursing the luck of those stupid broom riders and their ghastly sport.

A whistling sound filled the air, and Severus stopped in his tracks. Looking left and right, he tried to identify the origin of the sound, before he finally looked upwards. _That looks terribly like the..._

*SMACK*

Severus held his face in pain, clutching at his nose with scrunched eyes. Pulling a hand back slightly, he winced as he saw the blood on his fingers. Groaning, he looked around, spotting the Quidditch cup a few yards away from him. In two pieces.

"Noooooo!" Through the pain, Severus watched that stupid James Potter run towards the broken trophy, clutching at the pieces desperately. A small smirk tried to materialise on Severus' face, wanting to celebrate his sworn enemy's despair, before the pain hit at the movement, and his face contorted into a scowl once more.

_Stupid Potter. _

James grabbed the pieces of the cup in despair, trying to fit them together, wishing he'd played with jigsaws more in his use. Accepting defeat, he clutched the largest piece to his chest desperately, eyes narrowing angrily as he remembered the cause of his dismay.

"SIRIUS ORION BLACK!" James yelled at the top of his voice, spinning to face the pureblood, who was engaged in acts which made James gag. Body still pressed fully upon that of Remus Lupin, Sirius pulled his head away, turning towards where James stood, with a look of annoyance on his face at the interruption. Spotting the broken trophy lying on the floor, he quickly put two and two together, biting his bottom lip anxiously.

"Oops?"

* * *

_April 1994, Hogwarts Trophy Room_

The day after the celebrations, the Quidditch Cup was returned to its home, the Gryffindor name firmly engraved alongside the Quidditch champions of previous years. Remus Lupin smiled fondly as he walked towards the trophy, leaning down to look at the magnificent cup.

He smiled lightly, looking at the trophy both Potter males had worked so hard for. His eyes roamed along the trophy, lips turning upwards as he spotted the long, fine crack that ran from top to toe of the cup, and the large dent alongside it.

McGonagall had managed to fix the cup a few days after Sirius 'ruined James' life', with only a small scar left on the magnificent cup, but removing the indentation of Snape's nose had been near impossible (_"the grease probably mutated the trophy permanently" James had grumbled...). _Looking at the cup over twenty years later, Remus couldn't help but agree with James' statement, noting how deep the nose print still seemed.

A small pang rushed through Remus' heart as he remembered why the trophy had taken to the air in the first place, but he pushed it down, running a finger over his lips. _He killed 16 people less than 5 years after that, Remus Lupin. Don't you dare try remembering Black as anything other than what he is; a murderer. _

Remus sighed, mind still running over that fantastic, breathtaking kiss that he had been rewarded with all those years ago, when Sirius was young and innocent and hadn't murdered a soul. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to remember what it was like to be encased in the arms of someone that loved you, before a harsh, monotonous voice broke through his thoughts.

"Lupin." Remus spinned on his heel as he heard Snape's voice. A steaming goblet rested in Snapes' hands, and Remus smiled lightly. "If you insist on making me chase after you every time you need this potion, I will stop making it entirely. It would certainly lighten my workload."

"Thank you, Severus." Remus nodded, taking the goblet off his colleague. "Good Quidditch match on Sunday." He commented lightly, taking a sip from the large goblet with a distasteful glance at its contents.

"Another chance for wonder-boy Potter to show how alike he and his father are." Snape snarled, eyeing the dent in the trophy with disgust. "Both arrogant, bigheaded and only good at Quidditch." Remus took a deep breath in, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose in order to bite back a number of sharp retorts that flew to the tip of his tongue. "Shouldn't you be doing work, Lupin? Or is marking essays too complex for a dark creature?"

Remus sighed, handing Severus the empty goblet. "Oh no, Severus, the wolf in me loves marking. If only he could hold a quill, my job would be far easier. " Remus walked out of the trophy room, nodding casually as he passed the scowling Slytherin head.

Severus seethed as he watched the despicable werewolf leave the room, huffing in distaste. He walked into the room, leaning to inspect the cup himself.

His scowl lightened slightly as he spotted the frequency of the Slytherin name on the cup, before deepening once more as he spotted the Gryffindor name, and a large, nose shaped indent beside it. Exhaling sharply through his nose, Severus stepped away, looking as if he could smell an obese skunk. He snarled one final time, running a finger down his nose at the memories of that blasted cup, before slamming the door, walking away from a little piece of history.

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**Weeell? Whaddaya think? I even managed to sneak some HPDM in there for you lot (ewww), surely that's worth a review :)**

**I do know that the Quidditch cup is probably a different trophy each year, but lets just pretend for now that it isn't!**

**Oh, and I'm dedicating this to Marauders-And-Lily-I-Love, just because this story has been sitting half finished on my laptop for an age, and it was only reading her story 'Of Reading...' that got me back into fanfiction again, so thank her lots! :)  
**


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